The first words out of his mouth were, "If this is some sort of elaborate joke, someone is going to need a proctologist to remove this wrench from the...r..." Excuse me," the woman said in a voice reminiscent of a waterfall Chris had found once, far back in the woods where no one ever seemed to go, "Are you a god?"Chris knew he should answer yes. He remembered what happened in Ghostbusters when the answer had been no. But, he suspected there would be follow-up questions that only a god could. Then, abruptly, she straightened up again and walked to her basket. She gathered up her dress and folded it carefully down into the basket on top of her discarded underwear, patting it smooth. Quickly now, she picked the basket up and placed it in front of the guillotine. She took a long look at the basket and gave it a small prod with her delicate foot. Again. Finally as if satisfied with its position she took one pace back and nodded to herself. She stood, one hand supporting her on the. There were then a couple of guys hanging out near these chairs where they were just lounging and this was also the only smoking area in the building. So as a smoker I sat over there, lit up a cig and took in the atmosphere. There were all types here it seems. There were older, younger, good shape and out of shape guys around. All seemed fairly hospitable and would speak if eye contact was made. Nothing in depth, just a simple hi or how are you doing, etc. So I was sitting there and out of. As Harry continued to think, he realized that his last thoughts were from his 6th period potions with Professor Snape, the greasy-haired head of Slytherine, who hated him more than anyone at Hogwarts.As Harry began to think more, looking very puzzled as he scratched his messy brown hair, “Something had to have happened in potions class…” As Harry thought more and more he reached down to pick up his tie. As he began to put it on, he noticed something odd. The colors. The tie was not the colors.